


Twins of a Different Mother

by Starhallow



Series: The Twins Series [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explanation in notes, It's probably going to be a mess, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Season 3 and on divergence, Some events that happened in the books and the show are a little different here, oh god what have I done, others are completely different
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2019-10-08 14:04:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17387732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starhallow/pseuds/Starhallow
Summary: CANON DIVERGENCE SEASON 3 AND ON!!! (I warned you)The continent of Westeros is in shambles after the war of the Five Kings, while the one true enemy roams north of The Wall, where the foundation for a new Westeros may have started settling without anyone knowing. South, a queen has her eye on the Iron Throne and will stop at nothing to get it. Will a prophecy change the course of the life of many?





	1. Prologue

A woman

The woman was scared, extremely scared. She had been working for her grace for one or two moons, cooking in the kitchens, washing clothes, preparing baths when needed, and no one had yet discovered her. She kept her head down, her eyes to the floor, and her ears and gestures always willing to please. Slavery might had been extinct in the free cities, but their lives were still to be lived in servitude. Big cities, however, were easier to hide secrets in the more people around, the more souls to look at, and the less time to focus on an old lady sitting in the corner.

That, however, changed in a moment when one of her soldiers, her children, those who kept calling her Mysha having forgotten their own mothers, had seen her while she had one of her visions. And there she was now she was kneeled down before Daenerys Stormborn and her three dragons.

"Speak witch," the white woman said. The queen disliked witches, it was known. And so, she started her tale. Missandei listened closely, talking over her so their queen would understand the strange tongue she spoke, gently asking her to stop with her eyes every now and then.

"She says she had a dream. It was a dark dream. In her dream all animals fought, the dragon would always win, for it was the strongest, the most dangerous. But then, a pack of wolfs started sniffing around, as if looking for one of their own. Stags joined, and so did lions. The dragon was the mightiest of them, but there was little it could do when the rest joint forces against it. The last dragon lays dead now, blood tainting the clear water. Stags and lions became one, but more lions were born from that union, no stags. The lion cubs grew up, and they decorated their manes with roses, but their thorns wounded their skin, and the vines shall strangle one to death." Missandei translated.

"The lions ignore that there are survivors of the dark days: a dragon has been lost in a land of salt, a bull that whose brass horns look more like antlers, two wolfs: one lost in herself, the other wolf slowly poisoned by a mockingbird... There is nothing more than darkness."

"You mean to tell me that by the time I go back home, I will have no land to rule?" the white woman asked, concerned.

"No, the mother that controls the dragons shall find her twin, a twin born from a different mother. They shall fight, they shall cry, and they shall win. Only when they rule will the light be back in your land".

The white woman looked at her then, really looked at her, eyes wide and mouth slightly opened. The woman would close her eyes that night, to never open them again.

 


	2. Children of Coincidence

JON:

Jon Snow had a privileged view. He was standing on the edge of the Wall, not for the first time since he had gone back. He thought it no coincidence that he was the one to patrol in the dark, cold, night, by himself. It had yet to be decided how he was to be punished after his time with the wildings, and Jon had been assigned to spend another night watching the land to the north. Wildings, giants, white walkers ... Whatever Jon was to see that night, he knew it would never be what his heart really wanted to lay eyes on, the woman with fiery red hair. Jon shook his head, thinking about it at that moment, would do him no good.

So his mind decided to torture him another way. He remembered the first time he had stood in that same spot, hoping his uncle Benjen would come back, wishing to be remembered for something more than being Eddard Stark’s bastard. What if he had never left Winterfell? Would his younger brothers be alive? Would their home still stand? What if he had left the Night’s Watch when he had heard about Robb's rebellion? Would he feel better had he tried to save his father? Would he have known that Robb was headed straight to his death when he decided to go to the Twins?

He had joint the Watch so he could forget he was a bastard, so he could be as honourable as his father once was. Instead, he had failed his family when he did nothing to avoid them being slaughtered, and he had failed the Watch and the vows he had taken, in that cave when he and Ygritte ... Ygritte. Her name hurt more than a hundred swords going through his body. He had loved her, or so he thought, and at the end of the day, he had also betrayed her. _‘You know nothing, Jon Snow’_ she used to tell him, and she was right, she had always been right.

Heavy footsteps behind him warned Jon of the presence of another person. He turned his head from the darkness beyond the wall to find his friend Samwell Tarly walking towards him. He was as short as the day they met each other when they arrived at the castle, but the wobble in his steps had more to do with the amount of clothing on him, and less to do with his figure. “What are you doing up here?” Jon asked.

“Oh, just walking the little guy” his friend answered, “he likes it up here, I think all the noise downstairs keeps him awake. I swear the only reason they still have you walking around with no clear destiny is because of all that ale.” It could be, food was becoming harder to find and the men had gotten into the habit of filling their guts with any drink they could get their hands on. “I am thinking of sending them to Mole's Town. She hates the idea, but it may be best”. That was the reason Gilly had to stay locked in her chambers at night, why Sam was the one cuddling the babe at night. As horrible as it sounded, both Sam and Jon had been scared of what could happen if one of the convicts around them decided to fall to his old ways. His friend was sadly right, it may be best.

“Sam, do you think we will ever get more food from the South?” Jon asked trying to change the direction of their talk.

“Maester Aemon and I have been sending ravens to every house in the seven kingdoms, but answers have been seldom and short. They are reluctant to send aid when they might need it for themselves. The war has taken many lives and livelihoods and some houses just lack the food and men we need. Others are too involved in it to think of the Wall. But what do I have to tell you about the war ... You know exactly how it goes.” He did know. Winterfell had always been the force behind the help the Watch received for centuries, and with the Starks gone, and Winterfell in ashes, the struggle had become more and more. Everything was silent for a moment. Jon focused on the sound of his breath going in and out of his chest and he looked away again, to the land beyond the Wall.

“It would be different if Bran and Rickon were home,” he told Sam. He felt, more than he saw, Sam shifting awkwardly, changing his weight from one foot to the other. “What is it Sam?”

“I think I saw him, your brother, when I came back with Gilly”.

There was a pregnant pause before Jon spoke, “What you mean, you saw them? How do you know it was them?”

“They never told me, I just saw two boys with a girl and a man. They wanted to go north, I told them not to, I did ... But they were determined. They had a big wolf with them, and I know Ghost, so I thought one of them had to be one of yours. The one with the copper hair was sat down as the others stood around him.”

“Why did you stay quiet? Why not tell me the moment I came back? I could be with him!”

“He wanted to go alone, Jon”

“It is time for you to go to sleep Snow,” A voice said before either of them could speak again “time for the relief.”

“Thank you Storm, I will see you in the morrow. Let us go Sam.” Jon started walking to his chambers with Sam close behind him.

“I really am sorry Jon.”

“I know.”

* * *

 

SHIREEN:

Her life had changed since her father had lost at the Blackwater. Granted, not a lot, but enough for Shireen to feel more alone than she had before. Funny. Now that her father had decided to go North Shireen hoped for nothing than for the castle to be left deserted. All could leave and leave her behind. All except for Davos, but of course father would take Davos, her only friend, with him. Mother rarely let her talk to anyone. There had been Edric, but he had gone missing, and she had been unable and unpermitted to find him. And the other boy, the taller one Melisandre had brought was gone as well. Even if she doubted mother would have let her talk to that one.

Instead, she lived alone, with the books she had stolen. Those that taught her about knights and princesses. For Shireen, however, it was never about the kissing -or the other things she had found in those other books that had made her blush- she took pleasure knowing the princess would always find a way out of her tower. She would run around in the grass and ride her horse until the wind hurt her cheeks. There was no grass in Dragonstone, or very little of it, and her mother forbade her riding horses.

Nevertheless, she hid her books when her maids come every morning and every night, lest they take them. She hid them in a little box near the single rose she had beside her window. The one Davos brought her from one of his voyages and is made of red and green glass.

So she waited, for father to decide whether he stayed or he left and if he also took Davos away from her. And hoped, to any god that might not think it wrong that he took mother with him, for she feared she would find her book, and she would be left even more lonely without the friends she had made in the pages.

* * *

 

GENDRY: 

He loved making steel sing for him. He loved the way he was able to create almost anything he wanted from some melted steel. It had always fascinated him. He could see how much he had improved when shaping tools at six and ten, comparing to how clumsy he had been when he had started working for Tobho Mott five years before leaving King's Landing the first time.

He did not miss those years, not really. He had learned a lot, that was true, but his life had been far worse. He was living in his small forge, making some money for the knives and pots he made; no breastplate moulds around, no swords to sharpen, no arrows to put in quivers. No Hand's of the King asking who his mother was, no red witches buying his life with gold, no kind strangers in dark cells. No, that life had passed.

It had happened one sunny morning -although, most mornings were sunny in that shit-stinking capital- when a man had walked to the forge he was working in the Street of Steel with news of Davos. Little time had passed since he had left Dragonstone at that point -even if it had felt like four full years when he had been rowing in that small boat. A friend of Davos' the man had said he was. He had had a thick accent, and his skin had been dark. _' Did you have that bottle of brown for him?”_ he had asked and given Gendry a square coin of which he immediately knew its origin. _'You aren't safe here any more, boy. I leave at dawn break.'_ the man had told him. Gendry had wared with himself that night, tossed and turned her face appeared to him in a dream. Because even though he was sure she was dead, killed by the treason of his own blood, what if she weren't? What if she had somehow managed to escape the Hound and bought passage somewhere? Somewhere that could be Braavos.

So, Gendry had gone to the port before dawn broke; Gendry boarded the ship; Gendry arrived in Braavos weeks later with two changes of clothes, some doodles for a hammer and four swords to show when asking for jobs.

He never really made swords after those, not in the part of town he lived in. Tin pans and cheap cluttery, nothing that made his hammer sing as it had in King's Landing or Harrenhall. He had tried making some jewellery once, because he knew he would earn more money that way, the gods know that did not end well. His hands were too big to get the shapes right and he lacked the patience that it required. A young girl had bought three pieces he had been selling as a set of necklace, bracelet and ring made of scraps of steel covered with the little gold he could afford and some little left-over pearls he had found on the shore. He ate for a moon with that money. He sold his four swords to three different men after that and started making pots, and pans, and knives.

The fire frizzled right before his eyes and he was back in that goddam room with that red woman whispering sweet nonsense in his ear, telling him the truth about his parents, promising him impossible things... The worst part was that between the walls of Dragonstone he had believed her, he had trusted her and she had used him. He could still see her if he closed his eyes, looking into the flames with a small grin on her lips. She had told him she could see things in the fire, things no one had ever seen, things that were happening that same moment, or that were yet to happen: anything she wanted to see and the Lord of Light was willing to show her.

She was the reason why he could feel the tension in his muscles increase every time he heard any sound coming from the fire. What if she was watching him every time he heard the flames sizzle?

He got back to work, letting the flames dance, warm but deadly if you got too close, just like the steel in the small blade he was about to sharpen. She had had eyes the colour of steel, light shifting one way or the other, changing with each emotion she felt. They went to molten grey almost ready to be tempered; to hard, stormy and deadly. He had seen it, and to that day, it remained one of his greatest regrets.

A couple of hours later Gendry was still working. The world around him had turned dark and one could see men walking around looking for a tavern or a whorehouse. He had run out of wood, and he needed more to keep working, because he knew sleep would surprisingly go to him that night. It never did when he thought of the last time he saw her. He took a big basket, closed the door and walked down the street to a little shed.

He heard voices coming towards him, but he ignored them and continued filling his basket. He lifted it and started walking towards the forge. The voices followed him some steps away. When he got to the forge he walked by it and chose a random road to follow. They followed him. Three... no, four men dressed in heavy boots and wearing capes. They must live further north he thought. He twisted left on the following corner and right on the next one. He threw his basket to the ground when he turned to the nearest alleyway and started running towards the streets with more light, and more people. He never made it. Someone put a cloth over his face and he stopped feeling the world around him.

When Gendry started feeling again he was somewhere warm, and soft... A bed, perhaps? He was covered too, and the covers smelt nice, some strange smell he did not recognise. Gendry opened his eyes and saw that he was in a big room, he was sure it was at least eight times bigger than his forge. The walls were made of stone, light coloured stone he had never seen before. The bed he was in was big enough to fit three grown men comfortably, and had pale golden and cream coloured sheets and blankets.

There was a large table in one of the sides of the room, next to the biggest bookcase he had ever seen. The table was next to a wide window, which was covered in cream coloured curtains. There was a wardrobe on the other side of the room, next to the door.

The door opened, and a young woman came in, a beautiful young woman Gendry thought had to be his age. She had very long dark hair that reached the end of her back, a pretty nose and a kind smile on her lips. Her eyes were a clear violet colour, and she was dressed in a simple blue dress. "Good, you are up," the stranger said, "I just ordered our morning meal to be delivered here, you must be hungry, right Gendry?"

Gendry sat on the bed, silent. He knew better than to trust pretty girls in pretty rooms. She stood straight with her shoulders pushed back, and her hands folded in front of her in a position they had been taught into. He could tell by the way her right thumb caressed her first two knuckles that she was nervous. She slightly tilted her head to the right and closed her eyes halfway like trying to find something on his face. She swiftly recovered and folded one of her arms to the back of her dress from where she grabbed a closed envelope.

“I have this to give you,” she said, stretching her arm towards Gendry and taking two careful steps. “but Davos warned me you may not know to read. The sigil, however, I hope you recognise from your time in Dragonstone”. Gendry kept silent. “He wrote to me, told me Salladhor Saan had one last favour to pay him and that he was going to send you to Braavos” She said as she took a couple more steps towards Gendry, her violet eyes staring directly into Gendry's blue ones and eagerly thrusting the sealed letter towards him. He recognized the poorly made golden bracelet.

“That's mine,” he said in a low voice.

“And here I thought I had sent my maid to buy it for me” she answered, a kind of cheeky smile one has no remedy than to reciprocate, appearing on her face. And Gendry did. He lost control of the muscles on his face, his eyebrows raised and Gendry smiled back. “You smile like him, you know? Like the other one. The one they let near the princess” She said.

“How do you know?” Gendry asked, taking the envelope from her hand. He knew she was talking about the other boy, the other bastard. The one whose high-born blood had been too precious to sacrifice while Gendry was around. Gendry had never seen him, but the guards had gossiped like crones.

“I know many things”. She answered smiling. Her forehead wrinkled when she really smiled, Gendry noticed. He could also see a small white scar that ran down from the left corner of her bottom lip.

“Is that why you took me in the middle of the night?”

“I apologize, truly, I told them not do that. I told them to ask you to come. You are no prisoner of mine Gendry Waters, you may leave if that is what you please. I just wanted to give you a chance at a different path, and to warn you. One bastard to another. You are no longer safe in Braavos.”

“ And who told you that?”

“Salladhor Saan.”

“You trust the word of a pirate?”

“He owes me one, I shall trust him about the Lannisters. One of the swords you sold went back to the capital, and the false king heard of you.” Gendry frowned again.

“So you came to my aid. Why?”

“Davos asked me to keep an eye on you, and I owe Davos my life.”

“How?” The girl sighed and sat beside him on the bed. She looked down at her hands an twisted her bracelet three times around her wrist with the soft rays of the morning sun kissing the right side of her face when she turned to look at him.

“When I was little, very little, I lived near Highgarden with my mum. One day, the Hand of the King passed our home and I ran out to see the horses. He stopped, got down from his horse, he asked about my mother and I shouted at her so she would come out. He sat me on his horse while they talked, and before leaving, he told me he would be back with my papa. He never came back. They found my mother dead the following week, and when I became old enough, and the situation became unbearable, I begged a smuggler to get me out of that hellhole and bring me with my grandfather. And he did. So when he told me that another one of Robert's children was going to be killed I brought you here, to my home.” She looked down and placed a strand of hair behind her left ear.

Gendry had been friends with silence most his life, but he had seldom felt comfortable in it in the presence of someone else. He liked being by himself, no need for someone to talk to when you have close to nothing to say. He saw a little mole just in front of her left ear and he stretched his arm to try to rub it off.

“I have that too” he told her. “What do you know about the other one?” he asked.

“Very little. His name is Edric and he is highborn. They keep him inside I think.”

“Has Davos not asked you to bring him?” He asked, pushing her slightly on the shoulder, like a sibling, he supposed.

“No, not yet.” She smiled.

“That man collects us, I swear.” They both giggled at that.

“He must love children a lot to care for us broken things.” She answered.

“And we'll be safe here, you and I?”

“We will Gendry, I promise”.

"Then I'll stay.” He said, and he was sure the simile on her face could have molten the moon. “I'm sorry m'lady, I don't know your name." He said.

"My name is Alara... but you can call me Ally."

* * *

 

He woke up after a night of uncomfortable sleep. He went out, hunted something to eat and got back to the cave he had been living in for the past months. The small grave of the man that had saved his life was close by, and he went there and paid his respects. He did not know how long he would be out there... he supposed he would be found soon... He just had to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand, that's chapter one.  
> This chapter takes place at the very end of season 3 in the TV show. Next chapter there will be a time jump to the end of season 4 and we'll see how some of our other characters fare. I am in the middle of exams so I'll hopefully (hopefully) have the next chapter in a week (maybe two).  
> Thanks a lot for reading!  
> The original story (which is also mine) is posted in FFN under the same name under the same author name.  
> Also, my tumblr is MsStarhallow if someone wants to drop by and say hi :)  
> LOTS OF LOVE!!


	3. Fighting My Way Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! And that is thanks to my awesome beta @beverytender (on tumblr) who is super on top of her game and helps me get my disastrous self in order :)
> 
> Happy reading!

_Daenerys_

 

Daenerys walked from one side of her throne room to the other. On top of the chaos that Meereen and her already freed cities were proving to be, Drogon was nowhere to be found and she was very concerned about Rhaegal and Viserion. If she just found a way to get back home. Joffrey was dead and the other Lannister boy would be King, wasn't it the right time to strike?

'Only when they win will light be back in your land'.The old woman's omen had her coin dancing between greatness and madness. That final phrase of the forsaken prophecy was the last thing she thought about at night, and the first to come to her mind when she woke. A twin. But she had been the last to be born from her father. A twin of a different mother. What did it mean? Who did she need to find? She suddenly wished she had something between her hands she could throw to the wall.

She had once thought seeing it written instead of retelling it in her head would help. That's how the madness started: she wrote it once to try to make sense of it. It wouldn't. She wrote it again in a larger piece of parchment, the strokes of her quill firm and her writing clear. Then, she had doodled the edges, separated its sentences in different parts until none of it made sense. She had long lost that piece, but it wouldn't matter, she had hundreds like it in her chambers.

She looked up from the ground she was pacing when she heard the familiar ting of armour. Ser Jorah frowned in concern when he saw her face.

“Khaleesi,” he said, “Thinking about the woman again?”

“I can't help it. I need to know what she meant.”Maybe, she was looking at it the wrong way, maybe it wasn't her, maybe it was her dragons. That could be it. At least two of her three eggs could have been from different mothers, and they were all born the same day.

“She was a witch. Witches lie.” He said gently, taking her fingers away from her mouth with his hand. She knew that. She truly knew what deceiving promises from witches could cause. What they could mean.

“Even if she is wrong and I need no one to take the throne back, I still have no means to do so.”

“We could seek other paid companies. There are a few companies in Essos. If we could build a fleet just big enough to carry us through the sea...”

“That always seems to be the problem isn't it?” She asked. “ It's all I've ever known, the need for the army and the fleet we couldn't pay for.”

“Maybe, Master Illyrio could help us Khaleesi, maybe he knows a way.”

“Why would he help us?”

“For the right price, for the right place in Westeros.”

Daenerys wasn't sure. In truth, she had been sure of very little in the last year. She began her pacing again.

  

* * *

 

_Arya_

  
  
Cersei Lannister.

Walder Frey.

Meryn Trant.

The Red Woman.

Beric Dondarrion.

Thoros of Myr.

Ilyn Payne.

The Mountain.

Valar Morghulis.

 

Cersei Lannister, for lying.

Walder Frey, for betraying.

Meryn Trant, for having no honour.

The Red Woman, for buying a life.

Beric Dondarrion, for selling a life when he kept taking his own back.

Thoros of Myr, for selling a life when he kept begging for one for his friend.

Ilyn Payne, for swinging the sword.

The Mountain, for the tortures.

Valar Morghulis

 

Cersei Lannister, for father and Sansa.

Walder Frey, for mother and Robb.

Meryn Trant, for Syrio.

The Red Woman, for Gendry.

Beric Dondarrion, for Gendry.

Thoros of Myr, for Gendry.

Ilyn Payne, for father.

The Mountain, for Harrenhal.

Valar Morghulis.

 

The light of the bright full moon sifted through the dark leaves of the bush Arya was laying behind. Her list of names danced in her mind as the faces of the betrayers and the betrayed incessantly swapped behind her eyes. She thought of her father the most, the way his grey eyes would crease when he really meant his smiles, and the soft way he would breathe in before getting involved in a fight between her and Sansa. That night would be another one without much sleep she realized, but maybe she could sleep the following day, after she had found a ship sailing for Braavos. She squeezed the coin Jaqen had given her tightly in her left fist “Just a few more hours,” she told herself, “just a few more hours and I can find someone to take me there.”

Dawn broke later than Arya would have liked that day, but she set off the moment the sky above her had changed colour into a lighter blue. She took her needle and strapped her small bag on her shoulders. Gulltown was only a mile or two away, and she could see it, despite the low clouds and saltpetre fog that covered the coast.

She walked through the waking streets where fishermen were leaving their houses and followed them to the docks looking for someone sailing to Braavos. She crossed paths with two men going in the opposite direction, one had his hood up and his face down. Arya could see strands of blue hair peeking through the others' hood. He walked as if he owned the town, the arrogant prick. She passed by several ships and sat on top of a stack of wooden crates watching a chubby man at work. He seemed decent enough, as far as Arya could see, the way he talked to his crew was empty of the rudeness and harshness Arya had heard in other captains. He was actively loading the ship up with bags full of salt and sealed boxes Arya could not see into. His ship would have to do.

She jumped down the crates she was sitting on and walked towards him, keeping her right hand on her needle, and her left one tightly grabbing her iron coin. She squared her shoulders, cleared her throat and straighten her spine, before approaching the man.

“Excuse me, Sir,” she said, “do you sail to Braavos?”

“Not with a little girl, I don't.”

“I can scrub the floors or clean dirty dishes. I can work for passage. Or I can pay, I've got this,” she said, pushing her opened left palm firmly towards him. “Valar Morghulis” She added when she saw the surprised look on the man's face, and pulled her shoulders further back trying to hide the tension that had overtaken her body.

“Valar Dohaeris. You stay hidden,” the man told her, “It's bad luck to have a girl on board”.

“Bad luck?”

“For a little girl to be alone in a ship full of lonely men? Aye, it is bad luck, the sea doesn't like it. Take this with you,” he said giving her two sacks he had behind him and putting them on her outstretched arms, “Go below deck, I'll find you if I need to, if I'm not alone or I don't call for you, don't show your face.” He looked at her once more, before grabbing another sack of salt and placing it on top of the other two, concealing the lower half of her face.

She boarded the ship firmly holding her cargo and went below deck as she had promised, where she hid between crates and sacks until she could feel the weight of the equivalence of a grown man on top of her shoulders, and darkness surrounded her. She would sleep for almost two days without moving, she thought, after all, Braavos wasn't really that far and she would manage to get herself some water if she needed it.

She soon got used to the constant sway of the ship below her, her breath entering and leaving her body as the water moved the vessel back and forth, almost lulling her to catch the rest that eluded her the night before. She felt as the crew must have pushed the ship away from the dock, and she heard the orders given on deck, even if they were muffled by the fort she had created for herself. Of they were, to a new land that would teach her how to avenge whom she had lost.

She kept breathing with the ship, back and forth, like the slow songs mother used to sing for them when they were little, like Gendry's soft snoring all those nights they had slept together until he had been taken. Taken like mother, like Rob, like father, even Sansa. She recited her list of names to the beat of the ship, hoping it would bring her solace. Over and over again, faster and faster, her whispers getting louder each time.

She opened her eyes in the dark. The sway had lost its comforting rhythm and silence had given away to the rumble outside. The structure around her threatened to fall down and crush her in every shake. The crew ran down the stairs hoping their chances would be better below deck, and Arya sat frozen, unwilling to make a sound until the storm passed.

She had been unable to know how long it had been until they had reached Braavos. Her surroundings had stayed dark until the ship had docked. Arya had been ready to leave her self-made space that had become a prison in the time the voyage had lasted. She had been lucky enough to drink rainwater that hadn't been too salty and stayed hidden, despite the horrible hunger she felt. She wondered why the captain had never brought her food, but it mattered little anymore. He was leaving the ship, she would find something to eat in the streets.

Quiet like a mouse in a kitchen Arya climbed the steps to the deck, ready for whatever Braavos would offer. Her heart sank however, the moment her eyes saw her surroundings. Tall, dark rocks surrounded her, and the hints of grey grass were the only vegetation she could see.

“Where are we?” She asked a man that stood close to her.

“Dragonstone” He answered frowning, confused as to where she had come from.

Dragonstone, where even the sand was dark.

Arya looked further then. The castle stood on top of a cliff, its stone dragons cast large proud shadows on the black earth around it. A long, thin flight of stairs paved the way to the top. Arya saw two skinny, dirty boys run up and down the walkway, chasing each other in a frenetic game of tag.

“Where is the captain?” she asked again.

“A wave took him. How did you get on my ship girl?”

“I paid for passage to Braavos.”

“No passage for you anymore. No wonder we were punished that way, bringing a girl on board...” He said, talking more to himself than Arya “Of course we ended up here. But we'll leave soon. Yes, we will. No matter how long she's been gone. We won't be staying in Dragonstone for too long.”

“Who's been gone?”

The man looked at her again. “The red woman who followed King Stannis around. They left North almost a year ago, but they could come back any day for the little princess. Bad business that one, always burning people for her god. Bad business that god, that needs the lives of so many to keep strong.”

“She'll come back, you think?”

“Aye, the father will come back for the little one, and wherever the King goes, so does the red woman.”

And when she did, Arya would cross a name of her list.  


* * *

  
_Alara_

  
She walked the halls of her home towards the small sitting room Gendry preferred, with a big book perched on her left hip and hugging tens of scrolls between her body and her right hand. The servant girls bowed their heads as she walked by. Daughters of whores and motherless street urchins she had taken on her service when no one else would, and the big house with a road of different-coloured stones had earned her infamy in the quiet island of Lorath.

Lorathi believed all men were equal in the eyes of their almost forgotten god until they didn't. Lorathi believed men and women should be equal, until a bastard of a bastard built one of the biggest buildings on the islands, and passed it down to the bastard daughter of his child. Her inheritance, however, came without a penis, and that was something men seemed to love to point out. As if the lack of flesh between her legs, meant she would also be lacking a brain and not the other way around.

Alara would laugh when people told her the decrease in trade deals with her had nothing to do with her taking over the family business. Funny, how their economy had gotten better the moment rumours about Gendry had spread. Reinvention had been key when certain goods had become scarce in the war-torn Westeros: their fleet had needed to grow in order to go further east, their small number of guards had had to grow to a small army in order to protect the goods in transit, and Alara had had to learn two new languages. Numbers, however, were still the bane of her existence.

She entered the room where Gendry glared at a piece of parchment. The letters that so easily came to her mind seemed to be an endless labyrinth for her brother. She dropped the heavy book on top of the table with a loud thump that made Gendry jump on his seat.

“I'll trade you.” He said turning the frown that had just been on his face to a childlike hopeful expression. “I can do the numbers, you answer all of these.”

“But then you'll never tidy those horrible scribbles of yours up, and we'll forever be brought carts and carts of breeches instead of peaches.”

“That only happened one time, and we managed to clothe half our sailors with them,” he said almost laying on top of their work table and pointing his index finger right between her eyes.

“Work on your letters, Gendry,” she answered squinting and opening her book by the bookmark.

“Ugh, your poor children.”

She opened one of her scrolls and started working on them paying him no mind. They worked one in front of the other for what felt like hours without much progress on her part. She really did dislike the numbers. She sighed and leaned back on her chair, bringing the parchment closer to her face to reread its content.

She had reread it for the fifth time, sure that there was a mistake there somewhere and unable, for the life of her, to find it. When Gendry called her.

“Ally,” he said, “this one is from Davos.”

She sat straighter on her seat. “Are they leaving?”

“Yes, him and Stannis' wife. He and the red woman are already North. They are leaving the princess behind.”

“And the other boy? Edric?”

“Davos sent him to Braavos in a vessel that had been pushed there by the sea. He may already be in Braavos.”

“Do I have to kidnap another one of my brothers?”

“We could ask him to come this time,” he said looking up and grinning, “this one is castle-born and might have been trained to fight.”

“You were trained too, and they brought you without much fuss.”

“Yes, but I wasn't properly trained, I swung swords to test their balance. Wouldn't even do it side faced-” he grew quiet after that. He always did when some ghost of the past appeared in his memories. She suspected a girl, there was usually a girl, and Gendry had refused to even look at the women that would throw themselves at him in what she could only describe in stubborn loyalty. One day he would tell her, whenever he was ready.

“There is another one, yes?” She asked to bring him out of it, “A girl older than you and I?”

“In the Eyrie I think. Should we write to her sometime?”

She shrugged. “Maybe we will. Someday.” She turned her eyes back to her work.

“Ally?” he said, using his nickname for her once again. “Do you think we should go? To the Wall? To help with the Wildings and White Walkers and the rest of the monsters that Davos has told us of.”

“We owe them nothing, Gendry. They tried to kill us. More than once. And here, we are safe.” She told him.

“And when the dead cross south of the Wall?” he said raising his voice.

“Then there will be an ocean between us and them!” She said raising hers.

There was a moment of silence, and the siblings looked at each other, blue meeting violet in an identical stare if it weren't for the colour of their eyes.

“What if Davos asks?” he said. “We owe the rest nothing, but what if Davos needs us?”

She slumped on her seat then. “If Davos asks, then I'll vote we should go.”

 

* * *

 

_Stannis_

  
He watched Melisandre as she watched Ned Stark's bastard. He liked to think he knew her, but something had changed in her when she had lain her eyes on the boy. Stannis had seldom been a jealous man. Jealous of Ned Stark when he had been offered to be Hand of the king, jealous of Robert in their youth may be, but he could count the times he had felt that way with one hand. However, even if he were unfamiliar with the sensation, Stannis knew that the uneasiness he felt observing his lover then, was not jealousy.

She watched the boy like she had watched him before as if her vision has changed, and she were changing their target with them. If she were to drop it all in a moment because her god had switched opinions, what had it all been for? The blood of the innocent he had spilt, all for nothing?

Davos should be there, Davos always told him the truth. Davos would have already sent the boy, Edric, away where he would be safer. Davos would have already kissed Shireen goodbye and left Dragonstone. All on his orders, all against her wishes. She had asked for the two children to be brought to the Wall. Because there was power in king's blood, and Edric had plenty. So did his daughter. And Stannis had still not been blinded enough by her, but he feared he would in time. He needed Davos. He needed Davos, because Shireen was the only thing that was truly good in his life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, that week-or-two thing didn't stick, did it?  
> Anyway, the timeline for this chapter is before the season 4 finale, and this is where the real cannon divergence starts. Whatever happens between seasons 5-8 doesn't count for this story. I won't promise when the next chapter will be up, because I don't want to jinx it, it will hopefully be soon.  
> Once again: The original story (which is also mine) is posted in FFN under the same name under the same author name. This is a rewrite.  
> Thanks for the kudos, the bookmarks and of course, reading!  
> Also, my tumblr is MsStarhallow if someone wants to drop by and say hi :)  
> LOTS OF LOVE!!


	4. The Weathervane Turns North

_Shireen_

 

She was alone once again. No father. No mother. No Davos. Alone. Bored. Her mother had made sure to leave only the necessary maids for her, the ones the Red Woman had approved of Shireen suspected. A cook, four handmaids that switched every two days, a laundress she had seen coming and going from her window, the new marshal and the steward. None of them loyal to her, they could never be when all who opposed the Red Woman ended in a pyre.

Still, she kept herself inside the castle, in the self-imposed prison that had become her room. There was really no need to try and venture out if the reaction of the smallfolk would be the reaction of her household.

She turned around on her bed, they would enter her room at dawn, and curtsey. They would bring a dress she had worn the week before and one would bring her her morning meal while the other dressed her. They would leave her the food her father had ordered her to have in his absence, two hard boiled eggs, some cheese, a sliced apple and bread with spices or honey if they had any. They would leave her on her own until midday after that.

Shireen sat up on her bed, and leaned against the wall and started counting. The sky outside her sealed window was lighter than it had been when she had last looked out. She was about to reach two hundred when three soft raps interrupted her. One of her handmaidens walked in holding to a dark grey dress Shireen thought she could wear until she became seven and five if she were to stop growing at that moment. The other one … the other one was new. Shireen sat straighter and looked at the new girl. She was short, a little shorter than Shireen, her dress was too big for her and it made her move in a way that seemed unnatural for the girl.

“Princess.” The first one said with her voice tense, almost annoyed. Shireen didn't know her name, she had asked once almost three moons ago when the woman had first entered her chambers. She had asked the following day, thinking the older woman had probably been too nervous to answer. After the third day, Shireen realized she would spend the rest of her days without knowing her maid's name. She had wept that day, the day she awoke to the fact that without Davos around, there were no more friends for her in the castle.

Shireen stood up, still looking at the new girl who kept pulling on her dress. This new girl could be a friend. Maybe. Maybe she would tell Shireen her name and they could talk about the weather when she came to her chambers every two days. Maybe, in time, Shireen could ask her why she kept her hair short or ask her if she had any siblings. Maybe, they wouldn't take her away if she found a way to keep all that information a secret.

The first maid turned her around pushing her by her right shoulder, stripped her down and handed her clean small clothes for her to wear. Shireen gulped the traitorous tears that still clouded her eyes every time they treated her like that, no matter how long they did and dressed. She turned around to take her plain dress from the woman's hands and bent down to get inside it. She stepped into her shoes as her maid started buttoning her up.

Same meal to break her fast: two hard boiled eggs, some cheese, a sliced apple and bread.

The new girl was looking at Shireen with a frown on her face, and her hope for a friend fell to the pit of her stomach. No name to be heard it seemed, no explanation for the short hair, no siblings to ask about. Shireen would be fine, she could take some more books from the library, and maybe the ravens would reach Davos that time. Or maybe she could think of Edric and the other tall boy and hope they would find each other.

Shireen waited for number one to finish with her dress before putting her arms behind her neck and trying to fasten the last buttons. The first time she had done it without waiting enough one of the other maids had jumped away from her with her right hand clutching her left wrist and ran away crying. The days her dresses would close with knots were easier than days like that one, when Shireen struggled to reach the buttons lower on her back.

They left after that, but Shireen only saw the old one that day, and the day after. The maids switched for the next two, and then the new girl woke her again with the old one. The continued that dance for almost a fortnight. Shireen thought the new girl looked angrier every time she saw her. One day, when the wind had turned cold, the unusual pair came to dress and feed her in the morning. The dress that day had been a very old one, and Shireen doubted it would fit her well, but she tried to tie the buttons nonetheless.

“Let me, Your Grace.” The new one said, glaring with steel grey eyes to the other one. “ I can do it for you.” She walked around Shireen and buttoned all the way up, even pushing her dark her out of the way and putting it back down when she had finished.

“Thank you,” Shireen said, attempting with little success to keep the ever resurfacing hope from her voice and her heart.

“No need to thank me, princess. A maid's job is to make your life easier.” She said as the old one huffed and left the room. The new girl walked around Shireen again and looked at her. She bent on a clumsy curtsey and walked towards the door. Shireen stood there, her hunger long forgotten, she had to make her stay, she needed to find a way to keep her in the room.

“You are not from Dragonstone!” She exclaimed. The girl turned around, guarded, “I mean, I don't know your accent. It's alright, you don't have to tell me where you come from, and if you do I won't tell them. I was just curious. I don't talk to that many people, and I don't know too many accents, we all talk the same here. Edric didn't, but Edric is from Storm's End. Well, he was. And Davos! Davos said he talked like they do in Flea Bottom, but I never knew anyone else from King's Landing that could confirm that. What I mean to say is that I, uh-” Shireen sighed. Stupid. She had been too eager to talk to anyone that she had said too much, showed how much it was all affecting her. This stranger could be anyone, she could be someone the Lannisters had sent from King's Landing or someone the Red Woman trusted, and stupid, lonely Shireen had to wear her heart on her sleeve, serve all her insecurities in a silver platter. She looked down. “You uh- you don't need to answer. You may go if you wish.”

She sat on her table looking at the wall and unwrapped a blunt knife from the napkin that covered it.

“My name's Arry,” the girl said behind her. Shireen straightened her spine and slightly turned her head towards the sound. “I'm not from Dragonstone and I don't know how they speak in Storm's End, but I think I know how they speak in Flea Bottom.” Shireen turned her body towards her then. “ I knew a boy once, from Flea Bottom”

“How was he?” Shireen asked, having regained control of herself.

“Stupid” Arry said. You loved him, Shireen decided.

“Where is he now?”

“She- They took him.” She said, o further explanation. Shireen didn't need it.

“She always does.” She answered. Arry looked at her, almost surprised. They understood each other now, they had a common enemy, and for the first time in a while, Shireen didn't feel alone.

 

* * *

 

_Edric_

 

Edric threw his bag over his shoulder and stepped down of the small boat that had taken him to the small island. He took the road right in front of him, the one paved by stones of every colour just like Sir Davos, in his last speech full of promises had told him to do. The men he crossed looked at him with a range of stares that almost surprised him, from pity to disdain. At least none looked at him with disgust, like some of the people who knew had done first in Storm's End, and later in Dragonstone.

He kept climbing the road to the big house where these two almost ethereal beings that were apparently his siblings lived. They were good, Sir Davos had told him, so good they would accept Edric in their group of abandoned orphans. That is what they were after all: three children sired by a man who didn't love them, without a real place to go in the world. Or his brother and him, at least, Edric decided counting the number of guards that seemed to patrol his sister's grounds.

He was outside the gates when Edric arrived at the top, surrounded by a couple of men and a small circle of girls who giggled every time he moved. The tall, broad-shouldered man that looked like uncle Renly but whose attitude resembled more his uncle Stannis. Their uncle Stannis. He had seen that boy before. He had been hiding in the corridors of Dragonstone with Shireen, both fighting for the best spot to look out of one of the thin windows when Lady Melisandre had arrived with him. He had thought then, that even in a distance the boy looked a lot like the portraits of his father, their father, that Edric had seen in Storm's End.

Edric squared his shoulders and approached him. The boy squinted the blue eyes that looked so much like Edric's and tilted his head slightly. He walked towards him until they met halfway. He towered over Edric in a way he hadn't thought would be so evident, even when he had seen minutes before, and Edric had never considered himself small. His ears bent forward a little at the tips, just like uncle Stannis', and his eyes looked more like Renly's than Edric's, now that he could see them so close. The stubborn frown, Edric suspected, was entirely his'.

“Hello,” he said, nodding quickly.

“Hello,” Edric answered, “My name is Edric Storm, Sir Davos sent me looking for the Children of the late King Robert.”

“He sent you here? We were expecting to have to look for you in Braavos.”

“He did,” Edric kept his voice firm, “I have a signed letter from him that confirms it”. Edric grabbed the sealed scroll from his bag and gave it to the other boy.

“Name's Gendry, by the way,” he said as he started to read, and whatever he read seemed to convince him, “I'm just surprised you were sent straight here.”

“Maybe Davos trusted he could actually get here, unlike you,” another voice added from the door, “we had to coax him to come.” The girl who had spoken must have been the sister to match the brother Sir Davos had told him about. As tall as Edric, and with the same dark hair, only longer, the only feature that stroke him as strange was the colour of her eyes. Their great grandmother's violet eyes must have wanted to appear in a bastard after generations. “My name is Alara,” she added, “and don't mind Gen, he is too guarded for his own good. Tea will be served in the back garden if you'd like to join us.”

“Thank you, my lady, it will be my pleasure. My name is Edric.”

“We were right Gen,” she said with a bright smile as she grabbed Edric by the arm and pulled him inside the house, “this one has manners.” Gendry huffed behind him, but silently followed them to a large terrace with a magnificent view of the sea. Some of the girls he had previously seen swooning over Gendry brought sweets and fruits over to the table under the watchful eye of an older woman. Alara guided him to one of the chairs and sat beside him, while Gendry walked to the other side of the table and softly smiled at the older woman.

They started eating talking about the lighter things in life, like how his journey had been to Lorath, or how Alara apparently had the horrible habit of stalking her brothers before meeting them. “I was curious!” she had said in her defence, even if the argument seemed weak in all their ears. Edric learnt about how they earnt their living, and how they sustained the house, and how some merchants had started calling it 'the Bastard House' again -that last comment apparently didn't leave the sour taste on their mouths like it did in Edric's-.

One of the girls that floated around serving them, was currently filling Gendry's wine cup, even if it had been almost full to the brim seconds before. Edric was no one to judge, but he was concerned for the poor girl's health, because it was quite cold outside for that kind of cleavage. A cleavage aimed at his brother, who kept looking anywhere but her. Maybe, like Edric, he thought it improper. Maybe he had made it his quest not to be like their father in that sense. Maybe he didn't even like them, like uncle Renly, like- The loud bang of Alara's cluttery hitting her plate cut Edric's musings and made the serving girl jump and spill the sweet wine.

“Scram.” It was one word, and Alara hadn't raised her voice to say it, but the girl had left the jug on the table and ran away. Her violet eyes, followed the girl back inside, and Edric understood how the lady that had welcomed him some hours before, whose profession seemed to be to smile, had grown her merchant empire.

“You didn't have to do that,” Gendry sighed unbuttoning his dirty shirt. The older woman rushed beside him to give him a new one, “thank you Lanna.”

“She was making you uncomfortable.”

“And now she'll run downstairs crying about how horrible you are to the younger girls. That's why Lanna is your only handmaid.”

“No, Lanna is the only one I need. She is more efficient than three of those idiots combined.”

“Thank you, my lady.” The older woman said, a fond smile on her face.

“Never mind, there was no need.” Edric suspected there was, especially if the rumours that had run amock in Dragonstone of what the Red Woman had done to him were true, but he kept his mouth shut.

“So, Edric,” Gendry said, “when do we go North?”

“Gen ...”

“What do you mean, go North?” Edric asked.

“Yes, Davos and Stannis have gone to the Wall, to fight I don't know what. When do we go North?”

“I don't know, I was just sent here because there was no place for me in Dragonstone anymore.”

“You are here because we are family,” Alara said, “family takes care of family.”

“Exactly!” Gendry said, his eyes serious, looking at Edric as if he wanted to see into his soul, “so, when do we go North?”

“What do you care about? Stannis?” Edric asked confused, “I was in Dragonstone, I heard the rumours, I know what he had planned to do to you -Sir Davos told me-, I know what he had planned to do to me. Why do you care about Stannis?”

“He doesn't,” Alara said, drinking her wine. She turned to Edric with a mischievous look on her eyes, “I suspect a woman. I've suspected a woman for the year he's been here, but he won't talk.”

A grape hit Alara right in between her eyebrows. “I don't go around spilling your secrets, do I?” Gendry said. Oh, so there was a woman, none of Edric's previous theories applied.

“You would never betray me,” Alara said smugly, “You are also too scared of that particular thing” she added tilting her cup forward.

“I,” Edric said, completely out of the conversation, “know that it wouldn't be too big a secret if you are discussing it so liberally in front of me.” Alara pushed her head back and laughed confirming it.

“You are younger than us, but you might be the smartest one,” Gendry said.

“How old are you?” Edric asked, glad to be back in the conversation.

“Two and one,” they said at the same time.

“Wait, who is older?”

“I am.” They both said, again, and glared at each other the next second.

“We don't know, I guess,” Alara said, “I think you are the little brother though.”

“No way, you are the little sister.”

“So you could both have been born the same day and not know it?”

“We could.”

Edric looked at his two siblings, maybe he could get used to them. Maybe, they could be his home.

 

* * *

 

_Davos_

 

No matter how many times he sailed from one side of the world to the other, the change from ship to land was always hard on his body. Harder now that he was older and the land he had sailed to was the coldest he had ever felt.

As the south gates of Castle Black rose, Davos' eyes danced from one black brother to the next until he found his King waiting for him. He looked older, Davos decided, and something was amiss in his usual confident stance. He had lost weight since the last time they had seen each other.

“Shireen?” was the first thing he asked when Davos got to him.

“Not happy to be left alone.”

“And the boy?”

“With his siblings, the gods willing.”

“Come Sir Davos, we must talk.” Davos followed him to a dark, humid room bathed in candlelight. The only warmth came from the hearth on one side of it. “I fear I've made a mistake.” He finally said. “I fear my judgement was clouded as you told me, and now I see it clearly. I had to come to the end of the world to see it.

“Your Grace, I don't think I understand.”

“Do you see the Red Woman, Davos?”

“No, Your Grace, though you know I've made no secret of my dislike for her.”

“Aye, and she's made no secret of her dislike for you. Because, I am the Prince that was Promised, I am the one that will bring the dawn.” Davos stood quietly. “Until I'm not.”

“Your Grace?” Davos asked, confused.

“The Lady Melisandre has taken an interest in Jon Snow, Ned Stark's bastard,” he said as he sat down on a table full of parchments and maps. Ah, so he was jealous, “ The Lady Melisandre may think all my men are loyal to her, but you, Sir Davos, seem to have inspired a revolution, and several of them have told me about the promises she has made him. Promises she also made me.”

“I don't know the boy, Your Grace.”

“To his credit, he can keep his mouth shut, I believe he only told one of his friends,” the King shook his head, “oh, but that fat one has the stealth my late brother Robert had when entering a whorehouse. Too many ill-disguised questions.”

“And what do you want to do with it?”

“These,” he said picking some rolls from the table, “are reports about the Bolton bastard. They say he has Arya Stark. Snow is ready to go to battle for her.”

“Do you think he will support you if you give him Winterfell?”

“A royal pardon, a castle, and a new life. Would you take it?”

“Your Grace?”

“He reminds me of you. Would you take it?”

“I may if I had something to live for. I would for my wife and children.”

“I can't give him Shireen.”

“I wasn't thinking of Shireen.” Stannis raised an eyebrow, “I wasn't thinking of anyone.”

“You were thinking of your bastards,” the King said and continued before Davos could interrupt him “you are, and that's good. You've been more of a father to them than Robert ever was.”

“They are good children.”

“And what's their price? What will they want to help me in this” he opened his arms, “this war. The one for the throne and the one against the dead. What is their price, Sir Davos?”

“They are good kids. They shouldn't be bought like cattle, and until you understand that, I can give you no price.”

"Then, I'll have to find out myself." He was desperate Davos realized, lost in that land of snow without his witch to guide him.

"Your Grace?"

"Tell them what you must, I'll sit them on my table, I'll have them in my meetings, I'll pay their price if they help my wars both North and South, and I'll let them leave forever if they so wish. But send for them."

"Are you ordering it, Your Grace?" Davos asked. He would never lie to the children, if the King demanded it he would send the letter, but never lie to them. King Stannis could call them Davos' bastards if it meant that they would be the lightest bit protected when push came to shove, but he would never lie to the children and tell then he wanted them to help. No, Stannis wanted them there, Davos wanted them safe.

"I am if that's what gets you to send it," Davos pinched his nose with his fingers, "And Davos, send for Princess Shireen as well."

"Shireen Your Grace? Surely the Princess is better in Dragonstone where it's safe."

"I want her here," Stannis said in a tone that left no room for questions. 

Davos waited to breathe twice before speaking again.

“They are good kids, Your Grace. Your daughter and your brother's children. They are truly good. And they are your family.”

 

* * *

 

_Theon_

 

Reek, Reek, Reek, Reek, Reek, Reek, Reek, Reek, Reek, Reek, Reek, Reek.

Reek kept his head down. Reek kept his eyes shut. Reek covered his ears to silence Arya's screams up. Reek kept his mind away, grasping to the memories of years past when he wasn't Reek, he was another man.

Reek, Reek, Reek, Reek, Reek, Reek, Reek, Reek, Reek, Reek, Reek, Reek.

Reek kept silent because Theon knew that girl wasn't Arya, but if they all thought she was, maybe Jon would come, and maybe, they would all survive.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies, gents and variations of thereof, habemus chapter 3!  
> I'm aware that this story may feel like a lot of filler right now, but I'm hoping we'll get on track in a couple of chapters.  
> I haven't mentioned it yet (I think), but English isn't my first language, so apologies if something isn't written right, I am happy to change it if anyone lets me know :)  
> As always: this is a season 3 divergence fic I started to write when I was 19 (I've grown since then thank the entity that controls the universe), there's one on FFN that has the same name as this (it's also mine, this is the rewrite and that one is the original) and my tumblr is @msstarhallow if anyone wants to drop by!  
> Aaaaaaaaaaaaaanyway.  
> Lots of love!


	5. I'll Bless My Homeland Till I Die

_Arya_

 

She had hated almost every royal she had ever met. She had hated Robert Baratheon for taking them South; the Queen and Joffrey for making her send Nymeria away, for killing Mycah, for killing father, for taking Sansa; she had never really disliked Tommen or Myrcella but she had never associated any positive feelings towards them; and Stannis she had hated on principle, because his Red Woman had made Gendry even more stupid and then they had taken him away.

But Shireen she couldn't hate.

The only reason she had stayed in Dragonstone was to prospectively cross a name from her list, it was with the same intent that she had sought work inside the castle. Then, she had seen how they treated the girl, how she was sweet even when her maids were being horrible, and how her eyes would lit up with hope whenever Arya entered the room. She had made herself swear she wouldn't get attached to anyone again, but with Shireen it had been inevitable. So she had devoted every hour of every day to her new friend, after all, no one would say a word or murmur half a piece of gossip to Arya or to each other, and Arya didn't want to push Shireen into talking about the Red Woman or her father.

Arya made the small scroll of parchment dance between her fingers, she had taken it from the rookery. Without a maester to look over Dragonstone, the people inside the bleak castle had turned the way they would run the castle, putting themselves before their service. And Arya would have seen nothing wrong with that, had the castle been empty, but then again, it wasn't empty, even if Shireen's handmaids liked to pretend it was.

It was still dark as Arya ran down the slippery stairs, and then up again to find Shireen. The princess was already up, sitting on her bed hugging her knees to her chest when Arya slammed the door open. “Princess!” she huffed, out of air, she had to make time to chase cats one of those days if the wind got taken out of her that easily, “a letter from Castle Black.”

“From Castle Black? From Davos?” Shireen asked, opening her eyes wide, and stretching her hand out. Arya moved to give it to her, and Shireen jumped out of the bed and snatched the letter. Arya smiled, “It is from Davos,” she said sitting back down.

Arya busied herself around the room, reorganizing the few items of clutter Shireen had in her rooms, to give the Princess some privacy. When she turned around, she found Shireen close to tears. “What's wrong Princess?” Arya asked, rushing to her side.

“Father wants me to go to The Wall with them.”

“Isn't that better than being here by yourself?”

“No. I don't want to go. I at least have you here, and I don't want to be anywhere near HER. She's evil Arry, she's evil in a way you can't imagine. I had Edric here with me before he had to scape. Did I tell you about Edric?”

“No, Princess,” Shireen looked like she needed to talk, like she needed to vent all that had been eating her inside all that time. Arya knew she could get like that sometimes, those times when words would constantly reach the Princess' mouth, and she had no other choice than let them out. Arya had been on the other side of such speeches before, often times when the silence surrounding them got to Shireen, but that particular time, Arya wanted to shut the door so no one could listen to them.

“Well, I had a cousin. Edric. And I say had because I don't know what has happened to him. I think Davos smuggled him out like he did the other one. Did I tell you about the other one? Of course, I didn't, although that was almost three years ago. They brought him one night, Edric and I fought for a spot in one of the windows so we could see him, but I wasn't allowed near him because he was lowborn,” She held the piece of parchment to tightly in her hands, Arya thought she'd rip it. There was a knot in Arya's throat and a beast was trying to crawl out of her belly. It wasn't Gendry, It couldn't be. They breathed together for a moment, before Shireen continued quietly, “She took him. I don't know what she did, but I know she did something, because I know Davos was upset about it, and no one confirmed it to me, but I saw them building a pyre on the beach. I also know how obsessed she was with King's blood, and I'm not stupid so I know he must've been one of Uncle Robert's. Davos sent him away before they could burn him, but the pyre stayed on that beach. It made Edric sick with worry until we both watched it rot and wash away with a particularly rough rising tide. That was when father left, it was also when Edric got new tutors that would drill his head with talk of The Lord of Light until Davos came back for mother, and Edric disappeared, just like the other boy. Now, Father wants me North.”

For the first time in her months in Dragonstone Arya saw true fear in Shireen's eyes. Arya couldn't blame her after all they had both seen of the cruel world they lived in. What a horrible thing, Arya thought, to be incapable to trust one's father. Arya had trusted hers blindly, with a faith similar the maesters gave the Seven-Pointed Star. Ned Stark had been the compass that had ruled Arya's morals until her surroundings had forced her to bend in ways her father wouldn't have approved of, then again, her father had been taken so little mattered. “I will help you scape if you wish,” she said.

“I'd never survive out there. Let us be honest, I won't survive the North either.”

“Don't say that.” Came out of Arya's mouth before she could shut it.

“Maybe... Maybe you could come with me. I know it will be cold, and that we'll probably not like it, but it we could help each other through it if we were together, and you could still earn coin, and not be let go when I leave,” the girl said softly, “I could ask Davos to talk to father and raise your pay if that's something you'd like, and we could maybe invent some games to play, and see snow Arry. We could see the snow.”

Arya's heart shrunk in her chest when she avoided telling Shireen that she had already seen snow, a lot of it. Arya knew her plan: go to Braavos, learn how to fight, go back and complete her list. The only reason she had stayed in Dragonstone was to wait for the Red Woman, there was no reason for her to not go back to her plan now that Shireen was to go North. North with Davos, her father, her crazy mother … and Jon. Jon was at the Wall, if she were to go, she could see Jon. She could even convince him to take care of Shireen, and then, she could cross the Red Woman's name from her list and travel back south. She still had her Braavosi coin, anyway. “You would like me to go with you?”

“Yes, please Arry.”

“Then I'll go.”

* * *

 

_Gendry_

 

It had taken them three moons to ready all they needed to sail North. Had it been for Alara it would have taken them longer, much longer. They had spent three full days in a screaming match that had made poor Edric hide in his room while his siblings argued. For them, it was simple. Alara refused to go and kept saying they owed Stannis nothing, and since those on the letter had been Stannis' words written by Davos' hand, she was adamant they stay put. For Gendry Stannis didn't matter, all of it was to do with Jon Snow.

Gendry had never met Jon, had never swapped neither written nor spoken a word with him, but Gendry knew whatever was coming would strike the Wall first, and Jon was there. His insides twisted every time the thought of every horrible monster Davos ever promised creeping through The Wall. It had been years since Gendry had failed Arya in the most spectacular way he could have ever managed to do so, and he had never forgiven himself for it.

Arya had been his only friend in a time that belonged in a different life, far away from what he was living since the winds had changed on his future and brought him to his sister. But Alara didn't know how Harrenhall and the Riverlands had been during the war of the Five Kings, Gendry hadn't the heart nor the will to explain it. If he only were allowed to ease the weight in Jon Snow's shoulders, he would for her. For Arya. Because he owed Arya his life; because he had owed Arya his sanity more than once, even when she had been a constant pain in his arse. Because he had betrayed her, and left her alone.

He had been truly and fully scared of the little girl who couldn't be older than five and ten, and whose promises of eternal companionship had tasted too sweet in Gendry's mouth to not be hiding poison. The poison he fed himself willingly and had tasted more and more bitter whenever anyone reminded him how the world around them really worked. They had called him a fool, and he had been: because had they asked him, he would have given his life for Arry's. She had never asked, she would never ask. Now she was gone, and Gendry had already decided to fight for the promises he had once fallen flat to keep.

Arya made him selfish it seemed if he would put the lives of his siblings and every man that had chosen to sail with them in line for a guilty promise made to a dead girl.

When Davos' second letter had reached them, this time worried and descriving even more horrors Gendry had lost the little sanity he had been hanging onto. He had screamed and Edric had egged him on, accusing Alara of horrible deeds he should have been thrown overboard for. “Well then,” she had said with a faint strain in her voice, “I guess we shall do this the hard way.”

Gendry seemed to be built for a life of regretting the deeds done to the better women in his life, or so it looked like in his darkest hours.

There were multiple reasons why his sister was the one who would lead trade deals and price negotiations in a room full of grey men while he entertained himself with the numbers. It had been no different when his sister had pulled her commanders into a room to discuss cost and travel for her current Guard to be sent North, and for more recruiting to begin should they need more men.

She had been inside her cabin since they had left Lorath, and Edric had taken to oversee the crew and manage the ship, so it left Gendry with very little to do until he were summoned by one of them, except vomit the content of his stomach after every meal.

In the time they had spent at sea, Sir Dermont had become to him, what Lanna was to Alara. He was shorter than Gendry, and it had been years since part of his hair had decided to leave his head. He was the kind of man that demanded respect and understood the mind of those around him better than themselves. He approached Gendry and grabbed him by the back of his neck, in a gesture both fatherly and threatening at the same time. “She beckons,” he said, “and when she beckons...”

“We go,” Gendry answered.

He walked the length of the ship and rapped his knuckles on the door before walking in. She barely lifted her eyes from the parchment in front of her when he sat in front of her.

“Thank you for bringing him Sir Dermont,” she said with a soft smile, “I can handle him.”

“I want to apologize again,” Gendry said and her smile fell.

“Whatever happens doesn't matter Gendry, it can never matter: we do not betray each other.”

“I know. I'm sorry,” he said taking one of her hands in both of his, “I shouldn't have yelled, I shouldn't have said what I did.”

“I find you have very little control with what you hold closest to your heart Gendry. I don't know what the Wall or the North means to you Gendry, but I'm not really sure you really know what all this,” she said opening her arms to imply the small armada they were travelling with, “means either. I'd like to know.”

“I betrayed her,” it was the best he could give her, “I left her alone and she died for it.”

“You were taken, it wasn't your fault.”

“No,” he said, “I broke her heart to pieces before they took me.”

“So we do this for a dead girl.”

“I need to try and save her brother. He's at the Wall.”

“Better then, we do it for a convicted felon of a dead girl.”

“He took the Black out of honour,” Gendry defended.

“There's no honour Gendry, even good people do things for selfish reasons,” she looked at him pointedly.

“And for the army of monsters about to attack the realms of men,” he said looking at her through like a puppy.

His sister pursed her lips, shook her head and rolled her eyes. He smiled before she spoke, “Although they are definitely an afterthought. Never side with Edric over me.”

“Never,” he said extending his second finger in a childish promise and waited until she hooked her finger to his.

“It will cost us, you know?”

“How much?”

“Enough control over a crown to pay those who will wish to go back, and enough land to give to those who wish to stay. You may need to be a Lord, imagine... The horror!”

“Must I?” Gendry whined.

“For your dead girl, you must.”

“Will I have to marry?”

“As long as you and whoever comes after you, keep my people save and fed I care little if you marry. But no redheads, they are all evil.”

“No redheads,” Gendry promised, "I can't wait to be off this stupid ship and inside Castle Black."

"We could have already been there, had you asked nicely."

"No. Never again, once was enough."

* * *

 

_Aegon_

 

He couldn't really remember how young he had been when they had promised him a crown. "We will rake the Trident and find your father's rubies to embed them in your crown," they had told him more than once. They had finally stopped forcing him to dye his hair blue, his aunt had to recognize enough of his features on herself, they had told him. He had seen the great pyramid of Mereen before, but he had never been inside.

She sat on top of a flight of stairs, on a chair she insisted to call a throne and surrounded by the few whose loyalty she had managed to keep. She was beautiful Aegon noticed as he looked at her top to bottom once again. If all went well, she would be his first wife sooner than later, the one he would conquer the Seven Kingdoms with. One of the two older men that stood behind her, kept his eyes fixed on him. Maybe he had known his father, maybe he could see that Aegon had inherited the shape of his lips from his sweet mother. His mother, left to suffer when Lyanna Stark had gotten in the way.

He could hear the dragons outside, always hungry for fire and blood. 

As he was.

As all of Westeros would soon be.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies, gents and variations of thereof, here is chapter 4!  
> Omg! Arya and Gendry are both heading North! Whatever could happen? Will there only be ONE bed in all of Castle Black?  
> Also, I don't really know how much of Daenerys and Aegon we'll actually see, because I find them so freaking hard to write...  
> English isn't my first language, so apologies if something isn't written right, I am happy to change it if anyone lets me know :)  
> As always: this is a season 3 divergence fic I started to write when I was 19 (I've grown since then thank the entity that controls the universe), there's one on FFN that has the same name as this (it's also mine, this is the rewrite and that one is the original) and my Tumblr is @msstarhallow if anyone wants to drop by!  
> Aaaaaaaaaaaaaanyway.  
> Lots of love!

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this story when I was nineteen, way before the little common sense I have now settled in my head and I had a better idea of what I wanted at the climax of the story than at the beginning, build up, and the aftermath. So I rushed like a madwoman to get to where I wanted to (all the DRAMA) and I've been stuck on it for maybe a year. This summer I decided to reread it all, and I ended up crossing out a lot of what I had written.  
> So, here I am, hoping this second chance will bring better writing and a more polished product. The "full story" is under the A Song of Ice and Fire tag on FFN, and my author name is the same in both sites (There's another story in the "Game of Thrones" tag called "Bring Light Home" with the same summary and same chapters. It's the same. FFN didn't use to let one author have two fics with the same name in two fandoms.)  
> Little warning! Some events that happened in the books and the show are a little different here, others are completely different. IT ONLY FOLLOWS THE SHOW UP TO SEASON3. The rest are the ramblings of a madwoman


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